


What Words Remain

by Morningstarofnight



Category: Paradise Lost - John Milton
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morningstarofnight/pseuds/Morningstarofnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of a personal fun headcanon that Milton actually talked to Lucifer while writing Paradise Lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Words Remain

Most of the demons in his court were on edge. It was prime summoning season, and more than once Lucifer had been forced to cut an important meeting short because one of the attendees had been sucked out of Hell again. Ever since that whole fiasco with the Faustus person and the resulting explosion in literature, humans had been clamoring to have “Mephistopheles” as their servant. On the bright side, at least someone in Hell had a steady supply of good meals.

Lucifer himself had only been summoned in person a few times in the past century, but for some reason the humans tended to pick three o’clock in the morning as the perfect time to summon the Devil. This activity didn’t actually interrupt any sleep, considering Lucifer avoided doing so, yet the spirit of the gesture remained.

The new summons came with remarkably precise timing, just as Lucifer had finished his tea and was planning to perhaps retire to his tower for the evening. Someone had done their research. Still, he expected one of the usual big three requests: revenge, fame, power. Maybe this person would be polite about it. Lucifer closed his eyes and answered the call, letting the solidity of his form dissolve into black smoke. Around him, he could sense the world stretching and changing, felt it resolve into creaky floorboards and the stench of mankind.

“Did it work?”

Step one: perform arcane and bloody ritual with full confidence, check. Step two: wonder if it worked, check.

“Y-yes, father. Uh…”

“Describe him to me.”

Oh? _This_ was something new. Lucifer opened his eyes and found himself standing idly in the center of a well-drawn pentacle, facing a rather run-down trio of persons: an older man and three younger women, presumably his daughters if the little bit of conversation was anything to go by. All three had faded, poor-quality clothing, and the dirty house looked as if it would fall down at any minute.

Lucifer tilted his head to study the man. This was his summoner. Lucifer could feel the syllables of his name lingering on the man’s tongue.

The man was blind.

“H-He’s…tall? Very tall. And thin.”

“Not getting very good meals, hm, boy?” the man interrupted. Shock forced Lucifer into a stiff posture, his hair prickling like a cat. For once, he was at a loss for what to do. Giving the man a look of supreme indignation would be kind of pointless. Failing to come up with a response, Lucifer decided to just let this strange situation play out.

“Father—” one of the girls said, brushing back her own wispy blonde hair with shaking hands.

“He’s got long blond hair, but he’s got it tied back with—” The first girl soldiered on with her description, and Lucifer turned his head to the side with a quick, bird-like movement, allowing the girl to get a better look. It helped to hide his confusion. “—a black ribbon. And he isn’t dressed in our fashions, he’s got an older style of tunic and pants. They’re tucked into his boots.”

“Thank you, Anne. You, Mary, and Deborah, please leave.” The man gave a vague sort of wave, and his three daughters fled the room, darting worried glances over their shoulders at the demon. “The name is John Milton,” he said to Lucifer. “I would shake your hand, but I believe that might be rather foolish of me at this point in the conversation.”

“You…believe correctly,” Lucifer answered, after a brief pause as he collected his thoughts. He started to pace in the confines of his circle, surveying the room rather than performing his usual theatrics.

“You’ve got a nice voice,” Milton commented.

Startled, Lucifer’s head whipped back around to face the man. “I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”

“Eh, more people should. It’s nice. Not all deep, dark, and gloomy like I thought.”

“Was there something you wanted, or have you summoned me just to waste my time by appealing to my pride?” Lucifer asked, allowing his irritation to shine through.

“Ah, that’s more like it. Cold and dramatic.” Milton nodded to himself. “Now,” he continued, his face settling into a serious composure, “I want you to help me write a book. Or poem, rather.”

“Your soul for a book?” It was a way at getting fame and money, for sure. One last great success.

Despite the unfixed nature of his gaze, Milton’s eyes seemed to glitter. “I think you’ll find it a reasonable trade. I want to write about _you_.”

 

* * *

 

Most of what Lucifer told the man never made it into the finished work, of course. Too different from what all the humans had learned, far too complex in its history and personality. Humans wanted something simple, a static figure of evil who couldn’t see his own flaws. The delightful and crushing rendition of the Fall.

It had been great fun at first, creating this whining, overdramatic character, throwing in the smallest details of Lucifer’s voice into the writing. The two of them, sitting in the shaky room while the din of the city raged outside.

And then it happened that Lucifer found he cared for the man. Of all the humans in the world, this one for some reason seemed serenely at ease in the presence of the Devil. Of all the humans who had ever summoned him, _this_ was the only one who ever bothered asking about his past, much less wanted so desperately to write it down. Lucifer was at first fascinated, and then moved by something much deeper.

He took to curling up near Milton as he slept, watching the human easily fall into a sleep free from nightmares. Once, he brushed a lock of brownish-gold hair back behind the man’s ear, unsure exactly why he was doing so.

This gesture awoke the man. “You again?”

“Er.”

And with that exchange of three words, Lucifer now spent his nights curled around his human, absentmindedly stroking the poet’s back while the he slept. Sometimes Milton woke in the night and turned to face him, perfectly calm in the arms of a demon.

“Luke?” (Lucifer had insisted on the nickname.)

“Mm?”

“Just wondering if you were still awake is all.”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

Lucifer could tell where the conversation was going. Milton had seized on an idea, his curiosity kindled. “…I have nightmares,” Lucifer said in a soft voice. “Sometimes of the people I have killed, sometimes of Falling. But I think what haunts me the most are all the faces of the Fallen who chose me to follow.”

Milton thought about this information for a minute. “It only stands to reason. How shall I put it? ‘Cruel his eye, but cast signs of remorse and passion to behold the fellows of his crime…Millions of Spirits for his fault amerc’t of Heaven.’ Remember that for me, will you?”

Lucifer circled his arms more tightly around the man. “If the final work shares but one moment of my true voice…let it be those words that remain.”

 

* * *

 

And then the poem was done, far too quickly for Lucifer’s liking. By the nature of his contract, Milton’s soul was forfeit. But…there was nothing saying that the demon _had_ to take the soul immediately.

Or at all.

 _Sometimes Lucifer wonders why the angels allowed Milton a place in Heaven, but then a brief memory of a greater love skips across his mind, and he remembers that it was never the angels’ place to decide_.

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> In other news, apparently I ship John Milton/Lucifer platonically and I'm honestly surprised that there was no preexisting tag for that relationship.
> 
> Please note that I don't actually believe Milton talked to Lucifer, I just enjoy it as a headcanon that would be fun to imagine.


End file.
